


A Good Fucking Love Story

by ackles_ass_equation



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 16:28:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15585987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackles_ass_equation/pseuds/ackles_ass_equation
Summary: Dean and Sam have been dating for a few weeks. Sam fears that as a barista, he'd never be good enough for a hotshot director like Dean Winchester. Michael, Dean's jealous ex, does little to help Sam's anxiety.





	A Good Fucking Love Story

Dean Winchester had just finished directing his third consecutive Paramount film in five years less than twelve hours ago. Needless to say, he was feeling pretty good. He’d really rather skip the whole ‘We did it!’ party the cast and crew insisted on throwing the second the closing credits were finished being edited, but his boyfriend had insisted. Sam could get Dean to just about anything. It terrified and excited him just the same.

 

He almost couldn’t believe that they’ve only been together for a couple of weeks. Granted, he’d been chatting Sam up since the very beginning of his favorite project so far. Still, it felt like Dean had known for more than a lifetime. Dean was sure Sam Wesson knew how head over heels in love he was with the younger man, but tonight Dean was going officially tell him for the first of what he hoped could be millions of times.

 

He just had to wait for the damn party to end.

 

Sam had regretted convincing Dean to attend in the first place as soon as he saw Micheal, one of the movie’s screenwriters and more importantly, one of Dean’s exes.

 

Sam half-hearted listened as Micheal and two other cast members Sam’s sure he’s seen but never officially met. They probably ordered coffee from the small cafe he worked at across the street from the set.

 

His attention was pulled back to the conversation as Micheal started speaking to him directly.

 

“So, Sam, how long have you known Dean?”

 

“Oh, um, he came into the shop the first day of filming, so almost exactly a year now.”

 

“Well, then, happy anniversary.”

 

“Well, we’ve only been dating for about three months.”

 

“I see,” Micheal chuckled. “I’m surprised he’s not all over you at a party like this.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“When we dating, he would get so possessive. Not like a creepy possessive, though, you know? It was a nice sort protective. It was like he just couldn't leave me alone. We must’ve taken seven or eight vacations or weekend getaways while we were together. Fancy dinners almost every night, arm around me every other minute we were out in public together. And when we weren’t in public, let’s just say we weren’t apart for very long. I mean, I had basically moved in after the first week. All good things must come to an end though, right?”

 

Sam could feel his heart sink through his chest and straight to the basement of the obnoxiously pretentious apartment building. He snuck a quick glance over to Dean. He shouldn’t have.

 

He heard the woman next to Dean to remind her who he was seeing. He caught Dean’s eye as he gestured towards him. Then, Sam heard the heartbreaking laugh and “good luck with that” before she turned to talk to someone else.

 

Micheal’s attention was already back to the others in the small circle, so Sam quietly excused himself, set down the whiskey he had been nursing, and made his way to and out the front door.

 

He only made a few feet down the hall before he felt a hand on his shoulder, he didn’t have to turn around to see who it was.

 

“Are you okay, Sam?” Dean spoke softly.

 

“Yeah,” he lied. “Can we go back to your place?”

 

Dean nodded and asked Sam to wait while he grabbed their coats. He was back less than a minute later, and they were in Dean’s apartment in less than ten.

 

Sam’s mind repeated Micheal’s words on a loop as he walked towards the bedroom. He was drowning in each syllable that had left the other man’s mouth. Without thinking, he grabbed a duffel from the bottom of the closet to shove everything he had brought to the apartment over the past three months in.

 

As he unzipped the duffel, he heard Dean walk in.

 

“Sammy,” Dean questioned, almost scared, “what are you doing?”

 

“What does it look like,” Sam snapped. “I refuse to be just another one of your playthings. How much time left do you have set for us, huh? Two, maybe three weeks?” Sam had made his way to the dresser and was pulling out his belongings when he spoke again. “You know what? Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know how of my time you planned on wasting. I will ask why you’ve seemed to change dynamics all of sudden.”

 

“Sammy, baby, what are you talking about?” Dean was almost full on pleading and visibly shaking.

 

“With everyone else, it was romantic dinners every night. Vacations twice a week. Making sure everyone knew who they belonged to. Having them move in after a week. We stay in all the time, have date night maybe once a week. We’ve never gone away together. We’re nowhere close to living together. You couldn’t even be bothered to be seen with me tonight. You spent the whole night talking to everyone else, listening as they laughed at me.”

 

“No, Sam-”

 

“Fuking save it. I don’t need it, okay? I don’t need this. I should have realized it a year ago. Everybody told me and I refused to listen. Turns out they were right. A hotshot director would never truly want to be with some pathetic barista. I knew from the beginning that I’d never been good enough for you.”

 

Sam shoved the last of his shirts into the bag and pushed past Dean. He pulled his arm out of Dean’s grip as fast as Dean could touch him.

 

“Sam, please-” his words were cut off as the front door slammed shut.

 

His brain couldn’t even process what happened. One hundred and twenty seconds. That’s how long it took his entire world, his entire life, to be set on fire, burn, turn to ash, and be blown away by the wind. And he didn’t get to say a damn thing about it. He just stood there in the doorway like a fucking idiot, saying a name over and over, like that’d solve anything.

 

Dean didn't realize he was crying until he felt the tears make their way to his neck. He slid down the doorframe and his body hit the floor with the most miserable thud in history. A pitiful noise wrecked its way up his throat as he tried not to scream.

 

After what felt like seconds and hours the same, he heard a knock on the door.

 

_Sam._

 

He stood up on shaky legs and took the few steps to the front door to open it.

 

He felt his chest collapse.

 

Michael.

 

The one who he knew had ruined all of this on purpose.

 

“Hey, baby. How you holding up,” Michael faked a sympathetic tone.

 

“You did this,” Dean’s voice dripped venom. “You fucked up the best thing in my life. Why? So we could get back together.”

 

Micheal shrugged, clearly not bothered by Dean’s words.

 

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good love story.”

 

“A good love story? You want to hear a good love story? A big Hollywood director thinks he has it all. Amazing job, expensive home, a nice car. However, he begins to realize that he has a giant empty space in his heart where a soulmate belongs. So he goes and finds people he thinks could fill it collectively. He takes them on expensive dates, around the world, invites them into his home, you name it. But no matter what he does or who he does it with or how many times, that space is exactly the same size as it was before he started doing all that. Then he goes to work on another movie. He’s never been to this set before, so he goes to the little coffee shop nearby to get a feel for things. There, he makes eye contact with one of the baristas. Slowly, that empty space began to fill. A few flirty sentences at a time once a week. Then twice a week. Then three times. Until I was in there every single day he was working.” Dean hadn’t realized he switched to the first person, but that didn’t matter. He was talking too fast to stop now anyway.

 

“Eight months later, I decided enough was enough, I knew that most of my job was done for the project, so I asked him out. The look on his face lit up every single nerve I have in my body in happiness and relief. I didn’t want him to be some fake solution to my problem, so I took it slow. I helped edit the movie, so I spent most nights staring at my laptop while some cheesy sitcom played on the tv. But he didn’t mind, just laid his head on my shoulder and eventually fell asleep. Or at least I didn’t think he minded. I thought everything was going amazing until tonight. I don’t know what you put in his mind and what’s been there since the start. I will tell you one thing: Sam is more than I could ever dream of deserving. He knows me better than anyone on this planet. He’s kind and caring and a fucking genius, on his way to his last year of law school and everything.

 

“He is more than you could ever imagine, and because of you, he’s gone. You turned the love of my life against me. How’s that for a good fucking love story?”

 

Dean took one last look at Micheals almost, _almost_ , guilty face before he shut the door. No more than two seconds did he hear shouting coming from the hall.

 

When he opened the door, a very pissed Micheal was making his way to the elevators. But Dean couldn't care less about him now. Because Sam was standing in front of him. He didn’t have time to react before he pulled into what could only b described as an earth-shattering-and-being-put-back-together kiss.

 

“Kathy called, I left my wallet at her place. When I got there, she was telling me how she thought we had snuck off somewhere to get it on. Said you wouldn’t shut up about how amazing you thought I was and how happy you were with me. That you went around to make sure you told anyone with ears.” They’re lips were still touching, Sam mumbling against them while Dean stood wide-eyed staring at the other man. “Did you mean what you said? To all of them and to Micheal just now?”

 

“Evey single word,” Dean responded without a doubt.

 

“I’m the love of your life,” Sam whispered questioningly.

 

“Who else would be,” Dean chuckled.

 

“I love you.” Sam dove in for another kiss.

 

And just like that, the big empty space that been had making progress on being something beautiful before being drained was once again filling. This time, for good. For both of them.

 

“I love you,” Dean breathed the words and back in like it was his only air.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, why did I stop writing these? (Maybe because it's 2 am and I have things to do in the morning.) Hopefully, this gets me back into writing full swing.


End file.
